


Getting Reacquainted

by TheShipSailsItself



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Coitus, F/M, Fucking, Getting down and dirty, Sex, banging, doing the deed, humping, screwing like bunnies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipSailsItself/pseuds/TheShipSailsItself
Summary: Macy and Harry get reacquainted after some time apart.Speculation on what might happen after the distance issues arising in Ep. 3.03 have been resolved.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Getting Reacquainted

It had been so damned long, bloody _months_ since he’d last been able to even kiss her much less wrap himself around her like this and sink himself into her welcoming body. And as the months had dragged on, Harry had almost made his peace with their situation. Almost, but never quite fully. 

And, oh, how he’d silently (and sometimes, to his chagrin, very much _not_ so silently) cursed the fates that had forced them quite literally apart. How many dozens of times had he tested the barrier that kept him from her? How many times had he reached out to her only to be thrown back by a magic not dissimilar to Macy’s forcebolt? He’d learned to keep his distance, if only to afford Macy some peace of mind. 

But, good god, had that distance been maddening. Six feet. He’d not been able to come within six damned feet of any of his charges. During those months Harry lived in constant fear of one of them coming to harm and he not being able to come close enough to heal them. And with Macy, the pain of their forced, physical separation had run so much deeper. 

Six damned feet. Far enough away that he could not feel the warmth of her body but still close enough to catch the alluring scent of her arousal as it drifted to him from across the room. Six feet of an impassable divide that had kept Harry relegated to the far end of her room. Where night after night, seated by her mirror, he had watched his love as she lay on her bed, listening helplessly as she described in great, plaintive details how very, very much she missed him.

Each night, his hands would go white-knuckled, digging into his own knees as he tried to hold off touching himself for as long as possible while Macy showed him all the parts of her that missed his touch. 

Inevitably though, Harry would find himself caving to his own arousal, palming himself roughly through his trousers as he watched Macy tug away the last of her flimsy undergarments leaving her bared to his gaze. Unable to resist the wanton sight of his beloved witch lying naked on the bed he’d only so briefly been able to share with her, Harry would invariably find himself with his stiff and leaking flesh in hand. Stroking himself to the sight of Macy spreading herself wide for him, wishing it was her hand cupping and pulling at his balls. Her knees raised and sex bared before him, Harry would stare transfixed as her delicate fingers danced over her dark, pretty folds, at times moving at his direction and others as she narrated her own fantasies to him, but always with such lovely moans of love and longing.

And each night as he had watched his love twist and buck under her own ministrations, fingers plunging between folds that glistened in the moonlight, Harry had railed against the fates even and perhaps especially as he’d felt his own cum erupt from him to coat his hands and chest. How he’d quietly raged at the cruel and desperately unfair reward his charges were suffering for saving the world of magic. Despaired at the heightened danger it placed Macy and her sisters in and the isolation that he’d promised Macy, she’d never to suffer again. 

Lastly, Harry despaired at the way it prevented him from launching himself at his love in moments like those. Kept him from shouldering himself between her soft thighs, closing his mouth over the whole of her sex and driving his tongue deep into those honeyed depths he’d only just begun to explore and learn before their world had once again descended into a frustrating chaos. He had had such _plans_ , wondrous sights to show her and magical places to make love to her.

Plans that the press of the soft, slick walls around him and the plaintive way his Macy moans beneath remind him all at once are again within the realm of possibility. Harry’s eyes slide shut as he curves himself more tightly over his lover’s back as his hips resume their rhythm albeit at a slightly quicker pace.

_“Ha-a-arry…please.”_

-∵-

Macy isn’t even sure how or when their clothes disappeared much less how they came to be in this position with Macy braced on her knees and forearms and Harry molded over her back, rocking slowly into her from behind. The last thing she remembers is…

Oh.

Oh _no_. 

Did that really happen? Had she really just _jumped him?_ Right in front of his whole class? 

Macy only vaguely recalls standing in the hallway outside of the lecture hall where Harry was guest lecturing when she felt the faint tingle of something falling away from her and then a sudden need to– 

To go and–

To find… _oh._

Ohh **_god_** _._

_Yes. Right th–_

_Uhhhhh, Harry..._

Macy’s thoughts sputter as Harry’s lips close over the space behind her ear, sucking at her skin briefly before pulling off. He does it again and again, trailing wet kisses down her neck until he reaches that one, intensely sensitive spot just below the angle of her jaw. Harry’s tongue laves at said spot and Macy can’t help the sharp, backwards shove her hips give or the way her inner muscles clamp down at Harry’s answering thrust. She rests her forehead against the bed and pushes back again, hiding a smug grin against the bedding as Harry lets out a long, helpless moan. It’s a sound she’s missed so, so much, or at least she’s missed hearing it from somewhere closer than six feet away. _God,_ the way he growls in that ridiculously sexy voice of his, the sound vibrating against her skin making even her damn bones tingle…

Macy shivers as she feels one hand momentarily cup her breast and teasing the nipple into hardness before sliding down her damp torso to bury itself between her legs. She feels Harry’s fingers combing through her hair, searching and quickly, expertly finding her clitoris, fingertips barely glancing over the sensitive nub as his cock continues to slip in and out of her at a frustratingly slow pace. As one hand plays at her sex the other smooths a path over her back and shoulder. His palm slides along the line of her arm until his fingers are twining and locked with hers. Macy arches under him, reveling in the sensation of being utterly enveloped by her sweet whitelighter. She twists her head to look back at him and almost immediately his soft lips are pressing against hers and she finds herself moaning into his mouth. He answers with his own rough groan, licking at her as they share a kiss that feels equal parts soul searing and utterly filthy.

Wanting more, Macy tries to rise up, to turn but Harry will have none of that. He pulls his lips away from hers before pressing his forehead against the back of her head, harsh breaths rushing over the nape of her neck. With a grunt, Harry bears his weight down onto her, one hand pinning hers against the mattress. The other closes tight over her mound, drawing her bottom more firmly into the cradle of his hips. The press of his fingers over the hood of her clit draws Harry’s name from Macy’s lips in a low, drawn out cry.

Harry mutters into the space between her neck and shoulder as he pushes himself roughly into her, "Just- Just, Macy, stay right th- there... _oh. Lord, yessss...like that._ Oh love, you feel _so. fucking. good."_

His voice is so much rougher now and so low Macy could swear his strained words are resonating in the deepest part of her vagina. But, dammit, she wants _more._ Wants to hear more, _feel_ more of his words washing into her and tickling at the edges of her center just like his fingers are doing. Wants to feel his groans shuddering through her spine. She wants Harry’s sweat slickened chest stuttering against her back as he fucks her harder and harder, lost in his need to come. Macy tightens herself around him and lets out a whimper of her own when Harry’s hips jerk and his cock is shoved that much deeper inside of her.

“Fuck, love. Y-you need to- Christ, Macy, you’re going to make me come if you keep doing that.”

“That, mmph– That’s the p-point, Harry,” Macy mumbled, screwing her eyes shut as she struggled to form words as the tip of Harry’s cock continued to drive into her, stroking back and forth over a particularly sweet spot deep within her that Harry’s and only Harry’s cock seemed capable of finding. “I want you to- _Ohh...”_

Harry’s tongue sweeps over her neck causing her voice to trail off into a whine. He takes a brief (too brief) moment to suckle at her pulse before panting out a strained plea. 

“Oh god, stop. Stop talking, stop talking. Darling, please, for the love of god– You’re going to make me…”

She feels his teeth sinking into her shoulder and yet still…she can’t. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. And god, she doesn’t want to. Not until she hears him, _feels_ him flooding her with the warmth of his cum.

_“Yes, Harry, come. Oh god, please come…”_

-∵-

She’s being unfair and Harry knows that she knows it. She _knows_ the effect her words have on him. He’s spent the past six months finding his release to the sound of her voice, sometime without even having to touch himself. And to hear her now, her voice cracking as she begs him for what he so badly wants to give her all while he’s buried so deep in her sweet, wet cunt. How is a man to resist?

But _no, please, not yet,_ he silently begs both his traitorous cock and the intoxicatingly irresistible woman rocking herself back onto it. Stubbornly, Harry grinds his forehead against the knot of Macy’s quickly unraveling bun. He turns to rasp his cheek over her bound up curls, hastening their escape. Harry moans unabashedly at the sensuous feel of the loosened tendrils brushing at his bared throat.

He’d had _plans_ , damn it all. Plans that they would, when the time came, spend the entire night savouring the feel of being back in each other’s arms. Coming together gently as they made soft, slow love to each other, possibly in a Parisian hotel or under the dancing lights of the aurora borealis. He’d planned on making her come again and again and again, until she was shaking with the most exquisite exhaustion. 

But all his plans had fallen to the wayside the moment she’d burst into the lecture hall and had thrown herself into his arms. He hardly remembers anything past Macy’s lips crashing into his besides the vague notion that he must have dragged her to somewhere secluded enough to orb the both of them home. And now here he is, rutting desperately against his Macy’s backside like some mindless animal. How he wishes he could have been better for her, for this moment. But despite his protestations and demands on himself to hold on, Harry already he can feel telltale signs of his impending release prickling at the base of his spine.

_“Harry…”_

-∵-

“Harry. _Harry._ I _want_ you to come. Please, Harry, it always feels _so good._ I haven’t felt you come inside me in so long. God, I’ve missed it so much. Haven’t you? You said... _Oh god, keep going. Right there. Shit._ Please, Harry, I need you to co–”

Once again, Macy’s words are cut off. This time far more abruptly as her pleas finally hit their mark. Harry bucks into her sharply, driving the glans of his penis forcefully over her sweet spot just as he drags his fingers down over the hood of her clitoris and then presses up against the exposed nub. 

The move leaves her entire body shuddering. Her hands spasm into fists, yanking up the sweat soaked sheets from the mattress. Unable to control any part of her body, she remains curled in a limp exhausted ball. Macy feels her lips stretch into a wide smile even as her face slides against loose sheets as Harry continues thrust into her at a steadily increasing pace.

Not yet able to quite coordinate her lips and tongue for more complicated sentiments, Macy instead opts to moan out Harry’s name in exactly the way she knows he loves, drawing it out and infusing it with every ounce of want that’s been building in her for nearly half a year. It has its intended effect and mustering what little energy she has, Macy pushes herself backwards against his and lets herself enjoy the feel of her whitelighter losing control and fucking her with absolute abandon.

“I– _oh._ Macy, I-I’m– uhhhh…”

 _Oh fuck, Harry, yes,_ Macy thinks as Harry’s hips batter at her from behind. Finally, Harry collapses against her back, hips jerking without rhythm. Macy feels a series of soft, spurting heat jet against her cervix and a heady, almost euphoric sense of satisfaction fills her.

_God, she really, really had missed him…_

-∵-

“I had plans, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, Harry, you and your plans.”

“They were good ones, too. You’d have loved them.”

“T-tell me… _oh! Ohhh, okay…_ Harry, tell me about your plans?”

“Mmm, darling, you know what? I think I’d rather _show_ you…”

_“Ohhh fuck, **Harry**..…!”_


End file.
